


Million Years

by LeapAngstily



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Current sexuality: Pirlo's beard, Ficlet, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-06
Updated: 2014-02-06
Packaged: 2018-01-11 10:10:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1171817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeapAngstily/pseuds/LeapAngstily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the beard is gone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Million Years

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to my lovely roommate/best friend/mostly-platonic wifey who had a horrible, horrible nightmare.

Riccardo does not recognize Andrea at first. The angles of his jaw seem all wrong, the lines around his mouth unfamiliar. The whole picture looks distorted: precise, sharp lines where there used to be soft fuzziness.  
  
Even the eyes are sharper, colder. Riccardo does not like Andrea looking at him like this.  
  
 _“What have you done?”_  
  
The question hangs in the air between them, unanswered, hollow, and they both know the answer.  
  
 _“You hated it.”_  
  
The truth. Except it does not feel right anymore. Something is amiss: the gentleness in Andrea’s features when he looks at him, the hidden half-smile Riccardo has learned to label as  _his_.  
  
This is not his Andrea, this is the stranger he met long ago, someone he never in million years thought he could love.  
  
 _“You hated it.”_  
  
No, he hates this – this new, old Andrea, who looks at him with indifference, whose jaw line is all wrong, who is million light years away from him.  
  
 _“You hated it.”_  
  
  
Riccardo wakes up with a start, cold sweat on his skin and tears in his eyes.  
  
Andrea is sleeping peacefully next to him, unaware of the distraught state his lover is in. The beard is still intact.  
  
Riccardo lets out the breath he did not know he was holding. His Andrea, still here with him, not going anywhere, not in a million years.  
  
He shifts closer, snuggles up to Andrea’s side, presses his face in the crook of his neck. The beard tickles his forehead, a pleasant tickle, a safe tickle. His heartbeat is starting to slow back to normal, his eyelids getting heavy with sleep again.  
  
“I don’t hate it.”  
  
Andrea wraps a protective arm around his waist, pulls him closer against his chest unconsciously.  
  
“I could never hate it.”  
  
 _His Andrea._


End file.
